


Apology with Pizza

by SusanMM



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanMM/pseuds/SusanMM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes first impression can be corrected.  An epilogue to The Avengers movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apology with Pizza

****Standard Fanfic Warning**** that wouldn't last ten seconds in a court of law: these aren't my characters. I'm just borrowing them for, um, er, typing practice. Yeah, that's it, typing practice. (The quick red fox jumping over the lazy brown dog gets old real quick, y'know?) Based on characters and situations from _The Avengers_ movie written and directed by the inimitable Joss Whedon, part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, itself based on Marvel Comics. All characters will be returned to their lawful owners unharmed (or at least suitably bandaged) and well fed. Originally published in Diamonds and Dynamite #1, from Agent with Style Press.

 

**Apology with Pizza**

_The Avengers_

by Susan M. M.

 

                Tony Stark and Bruce Banner stood in the hallway of a Brooklyn apartment building.  Tony, a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with a moustache and goatee, carried a six-pack of beer.  Bruce was  slightly shorter, clean-shaven, a little older, but also dark-haired and dark-eyed.  He held a pizza box.  They stood in front of the door.  Just stood there.

                "Don't you dare wimp out," Bruce warned.

                "Wimp out?  I'm not wimping out," Tony protested.

                "Then knock already."

                Tony took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

                A moment later the door opened, revealing Steve Rogers, a muscular blond in blue jeans and a white T-shirt.

                Tony lifted the six-pack, like a hunter displaying a trophy.  "Beware of geeks bearing gifts."

                Steve stared at him.  The only definition of 'geek' he knew was a carnival sideshow freak who bit the heads off of live chickens.

                Bruce stepped forward.  "May we come in?"

                "Sure."  Steve took a step back and opened the door a little wider.  The pair came inside.

                The apartment was small and sparsely furnished.  The furniture -- a couch, a coffee table, a wooden chair,  and a bookcase -- looked second-hand.  Framed prints of Norman Rockwell's Four Freedoms hung in a neat row on the rear wall.

                "We brought beer and pizza.  And Tony has something to say to you," Bruce prompted.

                "I have a big mouth, a big brain, and a big bank account.  The first one tends to get me in trouble.  Usually the other two manage to get me out.  On the heli-carrier, I -- I was a jackass," Tony admitted.  He took a deep breath, then forced himself to say two words he rarely said, and even more rarely meant.  "I'm sorry."

                Steve nodded.

                "Can we start fresh?"  He stuck out his hand.  "Hi, I'm Tony.  Nice to meet you, Steve."

                Steve looked down at the hand a second, then up at Tony's face.  "Tony?  Not Mr. Stark?"

                "After yesterday, I think we've gone past Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers, don't you?"  He still held his hand out.

                "C'mon, guys, shake hands and play nice," Bruce urged.  "Before the pizza gets cold and the beer gets warm."

                "You were a jackass when we met," Steve agreed.  "But you more than made up for it yesterday afternoon ... Tony."  He took the billionaire's hand and shook it.

                "Now that we've got that settled, can we eat?"  Bruce sat down on the couch and put the pizza box on the coffee table.

                "He's not being greedy," Tony explained.  He removed three beers from the plastic loops and passed them around.  "He just has a really high metabolism."

                Steve grabbed the three remaining beers.  He walked into the kitchen, put them in the refrigerator, and returned with paper plates and napkins.  "That's okay, Doctor.  So do I."

                "Bruce," Tony corrected.  He sat down on the couch and grabbed a slice of pizza.  "If he and I are Bruce and Tony, and you and I are Steve and Tony, then you and he are Bruce and Steve.  Transitive property of mathematics as applied to social relationships."

                "Do you take anything seriously?" Steve asked.

                Tony shook his head.  "Not much.  Alien invasions.  Building schools in Afghanistan.  Single malt whiskey.  Making sure Indian reservations have clean running water.  My girlfriend."

                "You have a girlfriend?"  Steve stopped with a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth.  "I figured you for the different girl every night type."

                "Used to be."  Tony took a swig of beer.  "Pepper cured me of that.  Permanently."

                Bruce, who hadn't seen Betty Ross in over a year, didn't want to discuss girlfriends.  He changed the subject.  "So, you've got a high metabolism, too, huh?  Hell on the grocery bill, isn't it?"

                Steve nodded.  His mouth was too full of pizza to talk.

                "Can you believe he's already healed from yesterday?"  Tony jerked a thumb in Bruce's direction.  "I'm completely black and blue, and he doesn't even have a bruise or a skinned knee."

                Steve pushed back the right sleeve of his T-shirt.  The cut on his shoulder was now a neatly healed, fading pink line.  "I'm nearly healed."

                Tony shook his head.  "You two are disgusting."

                "Side effect of the super-soldier serum."

                "Side effect of gamma rays."

                Tony sighed.  "And I'm just an normal guy in a fancy suit.  Mind you, an incredibly handsome, mega-genius billionaire in a multimillion dollar suit, but -- "

                "You promised to behave," Bruce reminded him.

                "I am behaving," Tony protested.  He drained his beer, then added, "At least, for me, I'm behaving."     

                "You know the scary thing?" Steve asked Bruce.  "He's not kidding." Blue eyes met and locked with dark eyes.  "You don't have many friends, do you?"

                Tony opened his mouth to explain that he knew everyone who was anyone in both the social world and the scientific community.  That people fought for invitations to his parties. That E. F. Hutton listened to him.  Then he closed his mouth.  After a second he replied, "No, not many friends.  A lot of acquaintances, but not many friends."

                Steve exchanged a look with Bruce that said they were going to do something about that.  He took another sip of beer, then asked, completely deadpan, "Gee, I wonder why?"

                Steve had meant the question sarcastically, rhetorically,  but Tony answered anyway.

                Very quietly, he said, "When you're a child prodigy, you scare off the other kids.  When you're a billionaire, you never know who's interested in you and who's interested in your money.  And the second group," he reached for another slice of pizza, "is much larger than the first group."

                Steve snapped his fingers.  "That's why you act like a jackass."

                Tony looked up; he thought the jackass matter had already been settled.

                "You're trying to push people away," Steve realized.

                "Are you a psychologist or a superhero?" Tony asked.

                Steve just smiled.  "I'm someone you can't push away."

                            

 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember the "when E. F. Hutton talks, people listen" commercials?


End file.
